The Bite of '93
by BJXCBFOREVER
Summary: Mike Schmidt really shouldn't have returned during the day. Animatronics can bite off more than just frontal lobes.


**The Bite of '93**

 **I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary: Mike Schmidt really shouldn't have returned during the day. Animatronics can bite off more than just frontal lobes.**

 **Notes: takes place after FNaF 1.**

 **Warnings: swearing, gore, bodily harm, mentions of death.**

…

Mike Schmidt woke up that morning feeling numb and exhausted. His seventh night at Freddy's had ended hours ago, as had his entire career there. Tilting his head slightly to the left, he found his pink slip and black cap on the coffee table beside him. At the sight of them, Mike groaned and rubbed his face with one hand. He'd been so tired and emotionally exhausted last night, he'd collapsed onto the couch as soon as he'd made it home. His eyes had shut before he even acknowledged that he was laying on the couch in the living room of the Schmidt household.

Blue eyes stared at the pink slip with a gaze that could've set the paper alight, had it been any harsher. Such mixed feelings swirled around inside of him; he felt sick. A large part of him was glad to have finally escaped that place, to have finally escaped being hunted down like prey. Never again would he hear the creepily cheerful Toreador March as it counted down to his expected death or the creaking of metal bodies as they worked their ways down the halls toward him. Even the buzzing of the lights and the constant whirring of the fan's blades had bothered him after awhile, though they were considered a blessing. The fan had been a mere comfort to him, despite how weak a breeze it had given. It had, however, never given him as much comfort as the phone.

Mike's lips immediately tightened at the thought of it and a stinging took over his eyes. The phone. The Phone Guy. Night four. It hurt just thinking about it. Mike didn't think he'd ever cried that hard in his whole life (except, maybe, after his father had died). He hadn't even known the guy and he'd cried for him. Then again, wasn't that what one did for someone who had sacrificed their life to save another? Phone Guy hadn't even known _him_ , but that didn't stop him from recording those calls. He was a hero.

There was the reason Mike was upset about being fired. While he'd classified setting the animatronics' AIs to twenty and _beating them_ as suitable revenge for what they did to Phone Guy, there was still something he felt he needed to do. He was no expert, but he knew the animatronics well enough to play their game for a whole week and survive. There was nothing saying he couldn't handle a bit more. He would gladly do so if it meant keeping some other poor soul away from that place. A few nights ago, he would've called himself crazy for even thinking such a thing, but he had learned. No one deserved to go through all the crap he had been through, which was precisely the reason he wanted to carry on with the job. Mike's mental health had already been wrecked; it was almost as if he was immune, at this point. Why let anyone else go through that?

He wasn't going to go begging for his job back, though. As much as his mental health was shattered, Mike still had his pride and there was no way he was going to crawl back to his boss. What a bastard. He had known all that was going on at that place and still did nothing, like the night guards weren't people at all. What a prick.

Mike sat up slowly and rubbed his face some more. There was a clattering in the kitchen; his mother was up. Most likely fixing him up some food. Mike's lips upturned slightly at one side. She had always worried about him and fussed over him, when it was her who needed to be fussed over. She was the whole reason he had worked at Freddy's in the first place; medication didn't pay for itself and her mind and body weren't going to fix themselves. Old age brought problems, Mike knew, but his mother had always been so strong and so independent that her illness had been a bigger shock than it should've been. It had even turned Mike to a life of crime, if only for a couple of years. Four prison sentences and a few smacks on the wrist before he finally told himself to stop and look for a real job. If you could call a security job at a broken pizzeria a 'real job', anyways. Then again, it had been the only place that would hire him. Nobody wanted a man with a criminal record with them. Bad for business, you know?

The ex-security guard sat there and pondered what to do next. He had no job, no means of money, no backup plan. All he had now was a tainted mind, terrible memories and the knowledge that the robots at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza weren't as family-friendly as one would think. Mike glared at nothing as the image of that bear popped into his mind. Freddy had been the worst one, quite frankly. A few times, the bear had almost succeeded in his mission. On the first night, Mike had lost power due to carelessness and Freddy had been _so close_ to catching him. That would've been embarrassing; being caught on night one. The same then happened on night seven, but worse. When the lights had come back on, Mike had been shocked to find Freddy standing before him, with his paws out to grab him. Mike had escaped death by a mere centimetre. That was something he was proud of. Maybe he could have that written on his headstone; an ironic joke. 'Mike Schmidt escaped death by a centimetre…just not this time'. Yeah, that was good. He chuckled without humour.

Mike had never seen the animatronics during the day. Understandably, he was usually gone by the time the robots had gone back to their original spots. His face tightened into a frown. He couldn't imagine they were bad in any way during the day, since they were programmed to be children's entertainers. Parents must have noticed how creepy they were, though. He'd read the articles about foul-smelling substances leaking from the eyes of the animatronics. Mike's eyes narrowed.

Mechanically, he got up from the sofa and walked into his bedroom. He changed his underwear and replaced his black work slacks; they were stained with his own urine from the night before. Luckily, his mother hadn't seemed to notice. He didn't bother showering or changing out of the purple shirt and black tie. He collected his hat from the coffee table and mentally scolded himself. What a crazy bastard he was to think about going back, even if it was during the day. Only a true moron would.

But, hey, morbid curiosity was calling.

"Hey, Mom," he called to her, "I'm going out."

"Oh…but I made you lunch, Mikey…!"

"It's alright, Mom, you have it. I'll eat while I'm out." Not likely. His appetite hadn't been the same since working at Freddy's.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Alright…Be good, Mikey!"

Mike faltered, then smiled, "I will. Don't worry." With that, he went to the door and left the safety of his home.

Time to go back to Freddy's.

…

The entire bus ride there, Mike's tongue felt like lead in his mouth and his stomach felt heavy. Even going there during the day scared him silly. The animatronics weren't going to do anything to him and there he was, silently panicking about what would happen. He supposed it was natural, knowing what he knew, but still. He considered himself silly as he got off of the bus at his stop. A quick walk down the street and around the corner - and there it was. Mike swallowed down the nausea and forced himself to approach.

It took five minutes alone of standing in front of the restaurant to finally work up the courage to go in. When he eventually did, he was hit with the sound of children cheering and laughing and calling to their favourite robot. Beneath that noise was the singing of Freddy and friends. Mike scowled at Freddy from where he now stood, at the back of the crowd. He didn't care how that _thing_ acted during the day; he knew better. This was all just an act; a murderer hiding in what was forced to be his natural habitat. Mike didn't believe it one bit.

"Hey, everyone!" Freddy called out to the crowd in a deep voice; sort of reminiscent of Santa, in a way, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza! We sure are glad to see you all, right, guys?!"

"We sure are, Freddy!" Bonnie agreed. His voice was less masculine than Freddy's.

"Soooooo _happy!"_ Chica exclaimed next. High-pitched and girly. Mike imagined one's ears would hurt from that voice if they got too close.

"Well, let's sing 'em a song! You ready, guys?!" Freddy turned sharply left and right to address his band mates, "Bonnie?"

"Ready!"

"Chica?"

"Ready!"

"Well, let's go, then!"

And, with that, the band went onto their next song. Just like Phone Guy had said, it was stupid. Corny and childish with lyrics far too simple to be catchy. The kids seemed to enjoy it, though, so he supposed that was the main thing. Mike was scowling at him throughout the entire thing, not believing a mere second of this act. He knew the real Freddy. The real Freddy laughed a deep, demonic laugh and hid in the shadows while plotting a security guard's grisly demise. The real Freddy played a morbidly cheerful tune as he stood in a dark doorway and grinned at his prey. Mike knew the real Freddy; this wasn't him.

Halfway through the song, however, the real Freddy peeked out of his hiding place. When Freddy sang, he was programmed to move left and right in order to address the entire crowd that watched him. A sharp turn to the right and one head tilt later and he was staring at Mike. The ex-security guard wasn't even surprised. Two pairs of blue eyes stared at each other, daring the other to do something, and Mike became aware that Freddy had gotten stuck on that one word.

"My - My - My - My - My -"

Distantly, Mike heard the disgruntled confusion of the parents as their children looked to them for answers and worriedly asked what was wrong with Freddy. Mike continued his staring contest with the bear, his scowl tightening. _Yeah, you remember exactly who I am, don't you, you son of a bitch? I bet._

"My - My - My - My - Mike -"

Mike's eyes widened so much they hurt. No…No, he didn't just…

"Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike -"

He didn't…he couldn't have…

"Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike -"

Mike felt like he was going to be sick as he became aware of his own trembling. He waited for the moment Freddy would rush off of the stage and grab him. To be honest, he wouldn't have been surprised if that was what the bear was thinking of. Freddy was still staring at him, head twitching lightly as his servos locked him in place, and he was smiling. The smile he wore before, when he was actually singing to the kids, was happy and friendly and something all children's entertainers should have. But this one was different. This was cunning and knowing and Freddy _knew_ he was scaring Mike. He freaking knew it.

"Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike - Mike - microphone in one hand,"

Mike could finally breathe again, if only for a second. No, no…he couldn't have been saying Mike's name. He'd simply gotten stuck on 'microphone', right? He was being delusional, he must have been, there was no way -

"I sing, 'IT'S ME'."

Mike almost fainted then and there. He hadn't been paying attention to the song overall, but he didn't have to. That certainly wasn't part of the song. A whisper of "I've heard this song before - that's not the lyric!" from somewhere nearby only confirmed it. Mike felt sweat trickle down his neck as he stared at the bear in fear, only for Freddy to turn away sharply and continue the song as planned. The real Freddy went back to hide behind this silly Freddy that the children loved, leaving Mike to tremble and shake. He…wasn't being delusional. T-That really happened, right? He didn't imagine it. Freddy had recognised him - during the day!

Mike placed a hand on the wall behind him to steady himself, feeling bile build up in his throat. Oh, God, why had he come back?! What kind of _idiot_ did that?! God, he was such a moron. A pure and utter moron. He had to get out of here. He had to go. He had to leave. He had to, he had to, he had to -

"Schmidt."

Mike jolted at the sound of his own name, suddenly aware of the person standing to his right. He managed a frown as he turned his head to look. Next to him stood his bastard of an ex-boss, a fat man with grey and white hair combed back neatly and a suit that did him no justice. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here? I fired you."

"Nice to see you too, Charlie…" Mike muttered somewhat weakly as he steadied himself on the wall and frowned tightly at the man. "Might wanna watch your language - there are children nearby."

Charlie gritted his teeth in a scowl and grabbed Mike's shoulder before the ex-security guard could do anything. With a grunt, Mike was dragged so harshly that he tripped over his own feet, but Charlie didn't stop to let him gain his balance. He was hauled down the west hallway and into the office, where he was thrown toward the desk. Mike steadied himself on it as Charlie stood before him, arms folded. Mike gritted his teeth, " _Hey!"_

"You've got no business being here, Schmidt." Charlie snapped, "For fuck's sake, I _fired you!_ Get that through your _thick skull!_ And what the hell are you doing still wearing that?" He nodded to the purple shirt.

Mike frowned, "I know I've been fired. You don't have to remind me."

"Clearly, I do! Jesus Christ, you're probably the only guard we've ever had that came back during the _day!_ Well, 'cept Cawthon, but whatever. You didn't answer me: what the _fuck_ are you doing here?!"

Mike stood up straight and dusted himself off. "Call it a morbid curiosity. Maybe I'm just a sucker for nostalgia."

Charlie laughed out loud, a patronising and obnoxious laugh that made Mike want to punch him. "'Sucker for nostalgia' - Jesus Christ, Schmidt, you're a fucking weirdo. What a load of bullshit." Mike frowned, then looked over at the doorway as another man stepped in. This one was lanky and dressed in stained overalls. His grey hair was wrapped around the sides of his head instead of resting on top of it, making his whole look seem horribly creepy.

The man blinked at him twice, "…Mike. Holy hell, what're you doing here?"

"Oi, Hank, get this," Charlie laughed, jabbing a thumb in Mike's direction. "He says he's a 'sucker for nostalgia'! A load of crap, am I right?!" He laughed. Hank offered an awkward chuckle in return, not exactly amused. He knew better than to not laugh at one of Charlie's jokes, though. While Charlie didn't care for the security guards, however, Hank did. He looked at Mike worriedly, obviously knowing his mental state had been tainted. It was expected, at this point.

Any other day, Mike might've punched Charlie then and there; grabbed him by the shirt collar and hit him square in that sharp nose of his. Today, however, he wasn't quite feeling like himself and so instead he stared at the red phone on the table beside the office chair. _Hello, hello._ He swallowed thickly and looked to Charlie, who was still laughing (bastard), "Have you found a new security guard yet?"

That cut off Charlie's laughter right then. The man paused and stared at Mike blankly, his lips a perfect 'o' shape, then he chuckled, "Why? You offering?" Mike didn't respond, only stared at him. Charlie almost immediately scowled again, getting the hint, "Oh, fuck no. You aren't coming back to work here, after what you did! Tampering with my animatronics! Yeah, you can fuck off if you think I'm hiring you again."

Mike's lips tightened, "You haven't got anybody else."

" _We'll find someone._ " Charlie growled.

"Before tonight?"

"Already got an ad in the paper. New security guard will be hired before you know it, just watch."

"New security guard? I think you mean _new bait._ " Charlie's scowl intensified, if that was possible. "You sick fuck. No wonder you don't ask for references or anything. You hire anybody who will sit in a chair for a few hours and play the worm on the hook. You don't even give a damn! You sick bastard." Mike's scowl matched Charlie's now, "You know what, Charlie? _You're as bad as those killer robots out there._ "

The man in the suit growled lowly and stalked forward, fists ready to pummel this stupid brat he used to call his guard. He could admit Schmidt had been the second best at this job, right behind Cawthon, but that didn't mean he liked him or anything. In fact, he could easily say Mike was his least favourite guard. He roughly grabbed Mike by his collar and held up his other fist in preparation, only to freeze when a tiny voice muttered, "Um…e-excuse me…?"

All three men turned to the voice, surprised, and saw a small figure standing in the left doorway. A little girl, no older than six, wearing a green dress, the skirt of which she was playing with nervously. Her dirty blonde hair was tied into double braids as she stared at them nervously. Charlie hastily threw Mike down and wiped his hands on his trousers. Mike stared at the poor kid silently as tears welled up in her brown eyes, "I-I…I can't find my mommy…"

Mike's heartstrings were firmly tugged. As much as a tough guy as he was, he was still human and still had a heart. The miserable look on this child's face simply broke said organ in two - it reminded him of what he was wearing. Carefully, as to not alarm the child, Mike straightened himself and walked over. The girl stared at him worriedly as he knelt down to her, smiling softly, "Hey, there. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?"

"…S-Sally…"

"Well, hey, there, Sally. I'm the security guard here. Y'know what that means?" She shook her head. "It means I'm here to protect you. So, don't worry," he pointed at himself with his thumb and grinned at her, "your Big Brother Mike is here to help you!" She smiled at him sweetly as he got to his feet and held out his hand, "Now, c'mon. Let's go find your mom, huh?" She nodded and took his hand, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

" _Schmidt._ " Charlie growled out through gritted teeth. Mike turned to him and they shared a glare, then the ex-security guard shook his head and gave him a look that told him they'd continue their feud later. With that, he turned and left the office, holding Sally by the hand as he led her out. The two ventured back into the main dining area, with Sally looking around everywhere for her mother and Mike keeping a firm eye on Freddy and the others. The two came to a stop in front of Pirate Cove, where Mike finally looked down at the girl holding his hand, "See your mom anywhere, Sally?"

"No…not yet…"

"Well, don't worry. She's here somewhere."

With so much focus on the little girl, as well as the three animatronics on stage, Mike completely failed to acknowledge where he was standing. He completely missed the slight opening in the curtain and the one eye glaring at him from within. The man in the purple shirt looked down to the child he was holding onto again, "Hey, how 'bout we head back to the office, huh? We can get the main microphone and call your mom from there. That sound good?"

"Uh-huh…" Sally nodded, looking up at him tearfully.

He sent her a comforting smile, "Don't worry, kiddo. Everything will be alright." He turned and began leading her to the office.

He didn't even reach the west hallway before Charlie suddenly threw himself out of the office and screamed, "MIKE, WATCH OUT! HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ACTIVATED DURING THE DAY!"

Everything happened so fast and in such a blur that nobody was entirely sure of the events. Only a few people in the crowd were aware that the curtain of Pirate Cove had been flung open and a haze of red had come shooting out. Mike whipped around and immediately shoved Sally away from his person and, out of pure instinct, flung his fist out in a punch that would've knocked any man unconscious in a second.

But this wasn't a man.

The entire restaurant went silent; even Freddy and the band had frozen. Charlie and Hank stood in the left doorway of the office, their eyes bugging out of their heads at the sight. Parents were too shocked to cover their children's eyes just yet and children were too shocked to hide their faces away in their parents' arms. Freddy and his friends were simply standing on stage - _watching._ Even the kitchen seemed to suddenly fall silent, as though the workers knew something was happening outside. Maybe they did. They worked here long enough to know this place wasn't some cutesy pizzeria. The whole building was silent, until Sally finally found her voice. She screamed bloody murder at the sight before her, prompting parents to pull their children into their arms to block their view from such horror. Throughout the crowd, there were cries and sniffles and whimpers. Few children continued looking on.

Mike himself was gritting his teeth in anguish and pain, glaring Foxy the Pirate Fox right in the eye, his left fist lodged inside the fox's jaws. Blood oozed out of the punctures in Mike's hand and wrist and dripped to the floor between Foxy and Mike's feet. The ex-security guard could feel blood soaking his rolled-up sleeve on his left arm from where Foxy had stabbed it with his hook. Mike's vocal cords forced themselves to work, "What's wrong, Foxy?…Do I not taste good? Heh… _Is that all you got…?_ " He snarled. Foxy's eye patch flicked up. "Just repeating the past…how _original…_ yeah, that's right. I saw you aiming for my head. Want a taste of my frontal lobe, huh?" He sucked in a breath as Foxy bit down harder on his hand. "Yeah, that's right…I heard about the Bite of '87...from Phone Guy…" Foxy bit down even harder. There was a crack of bone. "Oh, you remember him? You should…I heard you…I heard you knocking on the door on that recording…you son of a bitch…you all ganged up on him, didn't you?…P-Pathetic…"

For a broken animatronic, Foxy was as powerful as ever. The fact that his jaw had apparently been broken meant nothing; Mike wasn't going anywhere. The ex-security guard waited for Freddy and the others to join the scene, to come down off of the stage and finish the job. He spared them a glance, then looked to Foxy, "So…is this it? You just gonna bite me? W-Why? You really _that_ much of a _sore loser?_ Heh…and here I thought _Freddy_ was bad…guess it's really you. But I get it. You're…jealous, huh? Cause you're kept away from the public. You want some attention!" There was a groan of metal as Foxy clamped down harder on Mike's hand. Bones cracked and blood poured out, staining Foxy's teeth and lower jaw. "Oh-ho, looks like I _struck a nerve!_ "

"Holy shit…" Hank muttered. He stepped out of the office properly and approached the scene carefully, worried that Foxy would do even more damage if he were to interfere. "M-Mike…I…I'll get a crowbar…I'll…"

"Jesus, Schmidt!" Charlie shouted, no longer caring if his customers heard, "Do something! You know these things - DO SOMETHING!"

"I'M A BIT FUCKING BUSY AT THE MOMENT!" Mike screamed back to him, tilting his head to address him over his shoulder, then he immediately turned back to Foxy. "Don't do anything, Hank, _this is between me and him._ "

" _Mike…_!" Hank whispered anxiously. "This…isn't a game…"

"I know. He knows too. Ain't that right, buddy?" Mike sneered at him, then hissed in pain as Foxy bit down even harder. Even if Hank did pry Foxy's jaw open with a crowbar, Mike's hand was mangled; beyond useless. "But, hey, don't worry. Y-You'll see the light of day again," he leaned in, "when they send you to the junkyard…cause there's _no way_ they'll keep you after _this…!_ But, well, look. You _finally_ got your time in the limelight. Feels good, huh? T-To finally do some real _damage._ Well…Well done. You did better than Freddy." Mike smirked at him, "But you still didn't beat me…I put you all up to twenty and you _still didn't beat me_. You _lost,_ I _won._ It's over, Foxy - _I! WON!"_

And that was the last straw.

Suddenly, Foxy pulled sharply upwards, dislodging his hook from Mike's bicep. There was a crack, a rip and a squelch and suddenly Mike was screaming at the top of his lungs. He was flung backwards onto the floor, his spine almost a perfect arch as he cradled his stump to himself, head tilted back as he screamed. People in the crowd screamed as well, mainly children, as Foxy turned and stalked back into Pirate Cove; Mike Schmidt's left hand still lodged in his jaws. Hank and Charlie stumbled back instinctively, the boss cursing under his breath as Mike wailed, brandishing his bleeding stump. Sally let out another scream, alerting Mike to her presence. He forced himself to stop screaming and instead roll onto his belly to look at her properly, "S-Sally…" Mike grunted, "I…I'm okay…I'm okay…"

Even a blind man could see he wasn't.

Sally could certainly see that, as she stumbled away from him, sobbing and muttering his name over and over again. Mike managed a pained grin at her, before another noise cut through the air that made his blood become ice.

Freddy was laughing.

It was such a cheerful laugh, not at all like the one he'd heard deep into the night, yet it was horrifying in context. Patrons turned to him slowly, shocked at it and muttering how sick it was under their breath. Mike growled angrily and forced himself to his feet. He heard Hank mutter his name, but he ignored him in favour of stomping over to the stage, shoving aside customers as he did so. The ex-security guard glared at Freddy harshly as the bear laughed until he finally had enough, "Oh, you think this is funny, do you?!" Mike shouted, cradling his stump. Blood was soaking his shirt fast. "I dunno why you're laughing! You _never_ did damage to me!"

Freddy stopped laughing.

"Yeah, that's right!" Mike grinned evilly at him. "You _failed._ Foxy had to take over because you FAILED! How does that feel, huh?! Freddy Fazbear himself couldn't take down one, little human! I bet you're PISSED OFF!" He looked to Bonnie and Chica next, "And how 'bout you two?! You failed too! Oh-ho, I bet you HATE THAT! The REJECT had to take over cause you all FAILED!" He turned his attention back to Freddy, "…And you're the leader here. You take full responsibility! So, guess you could say YOU alone failed! You couldn't beat me. You couldn't beat me at YOUR OWN GAME! I set you all to TWENTY and you STILL COULDN'T WIN! That's how PATHETIC you are! You hear me, Freddy?! You understand me?!" He clambered up onto the stage and looked up at Freddy's face. He took a moment to look for any new emotion, then he slowly shook his head, "…I feel sorry for you. You're so pathetic. You hunt people down for no reason whatsoever. What did we ever do to you? We've NEVER hurt you, so why do YOU hurt US?! You've killed people, damn it!" He felt tears sting his eyes and looked away in order to hide them from Freddy, "…You killed the one man who tried to help me. He was _helpless_ and you…" He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked up at him. His sight was getting blurry from blood loss. "You…how could you? How could you be so _cruel?_ " He wiped his eyes on his arm, hissing at the pain from his left one, "I…I beat you…so there's nothing left for you to do to me…I'm _over_ you…You're _weak…_ " He shook his head, "…and I'm not scared of you anymore…" Finally, he lifted his fist and slammed it down on Freddy's chest, "You UNDERSTAND, FREDDY?! I'M NOT SCARED! I'LL NEVER BE SCARED OF YOU AGAIN!"

"Mike!" Hank yelped. Mike was breaking one of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza's top rules: don't touch Freddy.

Before Mike could even think of responding, Freddy suddenly lifted his hand and grabbed Mike's wrist, squeezing it firmly in a surprisingly warm hold. Mike gasped and stared him in the eye, then smirked, "It doesn't matter…" He muttered as Freddy stared at him coldly, "…I've beaten you…I won…I beat you…I beat you…I…beat…you…"

And, with that, Mike fell unconscious then and there. He hung by the wrist clutched in Freddy's grasp, barely even on his knees, with his forehead resting against Freddy's belly. His stump hung at his side, pouring blood onto the floor beside him.

"…Somebody call a fucking ambulance…" Hank finally muttered into the silence.

…

It took fifteen whole minutes for them to finally get Freddy Fazbear to release Mike Schmidt's arm. Begging and pleading was required because God forbid they touch Freddy again. Mike had already broken that rule; Freddy was pissed off enough as it was. When he had finally released him, Mike had flopped down into the puddle of his own blood and, as he was carried out by paramedics, Freddy laughed again.

His wound was disinfected, patched up and bandaged and Mike was cleaned of all bloodstains. The doctors and surgeons did all they could for him, but it wasn't enough. None of them could get Foxy to release Mike's hand. Even if they could, there was practically nothing left of it. Completely mangled.

When Mike finally woke up, his body felt numb and stiff and his head hurt. The light above him almost blinded him, so he shut his eyes again in order to block it out. There was a distant beeping sound too and he groaned lightly when it hurt his ears. His groaning alerted a nearby nurse, who rushed to his side, "Oh, Mr. Schmidt! You're awake! Easy now…" She helped him sit up, one hand on his back and the other on his chest.

"W-What…?" He began, lifting his arm to rub his eyes. As his arm approached his face, he froze, processed what he was seeing, then cried out as he saw his bandaged stump.

"Try not to move it too much." The nurse advised gently, coaxing his arm back down by his side. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Schmidt, but…there was nothing we could do to save it…I'm sorry…"

Mike stared at the stump as he relayed the events in his head. Foxy…that bastard. What the hell had he done to prompt a biting, anyways? He was helping that little kid out! Foxy should've been _happy with him!_ Freddy too! That son of a bitch…

"Mr. Schmidt…?"

Mike blinked twice, then looked up at her with a grin, "Don't worry about it. So, what time's dinner?"

She paused and stared at them for a few moments, then smiled warmly. The next hour or so was a blur in Mike's mind. The nurse had collected one of the doctors that was placed in charge of him and he had explained everything to Mike about what had happened and what they had done to help. He was set up on painkillers and would have to change his bandages quite regularly until the stump healed over. As of right now, they were unsure of how long Mike would be in there. Mike didn't much like the sound of that; he still had to tend to his mother, after all.

About an hour or so after the doctor had left him to his own devices, the nurse came back in to tell him he had visitors. Mike, blinking confusedly, sat up on his bed and expected his hysterical mother to come bursting into the room, followed by the disgruntled neighbour that she had bothered for a ride. Instead, he got a disgruntled ex-boss and a nervous janitor. Mike immediately frowned, but assured the nurse it was fine. She left quickly, leaving the three men alone.

There was silence between them all, then Mike held up his stump, "So, guess we can call this the Bite of '93, huh?"

Charlie scoffed, then tilted his head at the ex-security guard, "You look like shit."

"Funny. I was gonna say that to you." Mike sneered, making Charlie frown. Hank stood awkwardly next to Mike's bed, holding a small potted plant in both hands. It was obviously supposed to be a get well soon present. "So, what're you two doing here? Gonna beg me not to sue you?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You wouldn't dare."

"Why? I could use the cash. Especially since I don't have a job anymore." He grinned at him.

"You son of a bitch - You messed with the 'bots just to do _this_ , didn't you?!"

Mike immediately frowned, "The fuck? Why would I _purposely_ lose my hand?! I'm not that fucking desperate!"

"It wouldn't shock me."

"Fuck you." Mike spat. He subconsciously rubbed his arm against the sheets of his bed, "The hell did he attack me for anyway?"

" _Maybe_ \- and I'm just spit-balling here - it's because you set the fuckers to TWENTY!" Charlie shouted.

"Well, didn't you change them back?!" Mike exclaimed, brow furrowing. He must have. Charlie was the one who had checked each of them after Mike had finished his final shift at Freddy's. Surely, he had the brains to change them all back (though, Mike wouldn't have put it passed him).

Charlie suddenly looked a bit sheepish as he leaned back and looked away. Mike gritted his teeth in preparation for the answer. "…Might've been a bit hasty in chewing you out for it…"

"Charlie!"

"Well, god damn, Schmidt!" Charlie shouted. "The hell was I supposed to do?! You messed with my animatronics!"

"Because they kill people! They tried to kill me!"

"Shut up!" Charlie shouted suddenly. There was a moment of silence between them all, then Charlie spoke carefully, "You shouldn't have come back. You should've just stayed away. You gotta quit your weird obsession with Freddy's and - and the guy before you and everything. It's not good, Michael, and it's not healthy. You should just focus on getting on with your life."

" _Get on with my life?!"_

"Don't you dare mention that bullshit here."

"Why? Cause you'd get caught otherwise?" Mike scowled.

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"Are you kidding me?!" Mike exploded. He shot forward suddenly, ignoring Hank's mutter for him to calm down, and shouted, "You've been keeping people's murders a SECRET this whole time! Passing them off as 'missing people' when you knew EXACTLY what's happened to them! You BASTARD! All of these sacrifices made just because you can't get your head out of your fat ass for five seconds to see how inhumane your own actions are! You have no idea about all the _bullshit_ we have to go through!" Of course, it was inevitable who would pop up in his head. "The guy before me…I _heard_ his death on the phone…!"

"The phone?" Charlie muttered.

"Oh, you didn't know? He saved me. He saved my life with phone calls."

Charlie's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's, then he scowled dangerously, "Cawthon, you _son of a bitch!_ I trusted that little fuck and he… _what did he tell you?_ "

"All that I needed to know." Mike replied, "But that doesn't matter now, does it? He's dead. He's dead because of what you did. Phone Guy is dead because of YOU!"

"No…" Charlie shook his head.

"You KILLED the PHONE GUY!"

"NO!" Charlie shouted and suddenly lunged forward. His meaty hands wrapped themselves around Mike's neck and he pressed the man down to his bed, squeezing his throat harshly. Mike choked and scratched at his hands with the one hand he still had while his feet kicked uselessly. Hank dropped the potted plant and grabbed at Charlie's arms, shouting for him to stop and to let poor Mike go, but Charlie didn't listen. Mike couldn't remember much of what was said, Charlie had such a firm grip, but he remembered pushing at the man's face until two men in uniform came in and pulled Charlie off of him. Mike was left coughing violently in to his hand as Charlie was dragged away and out of the room, shouting to him, "Just you wait until I get my hands on you, Schmidt! Mark my fucking words: you WILL regret all this!"

Yeah. He bet.

Hank stayed by Mike's side as Mike recovered from the almost strangulation, coughing up large wads of spit and phlegm. The janitor stood there awkwardly, shuffling his boots slightly as Mike pulled himself together, then the ex-security guard looked to him. Hank looked to Mike, "Uh…hey."

"…Hey."

There was silence, then Hank sighed, "Look, I'm sorry for all the stuff he did to you…I know that's not enough, but -"

"The hell are you apologizing for?" Mike muttered, "You didn't do anything."

"…I could've gone to the police too."

"He made you shut up. It doesn't matter. It's him that doesn't care for the night guards. You do, and that's all that matters."

Hank offered him a smile that Mike rarely saw on him, prompting him to return it. The janitor's smile dropped after a moment, though, as he looked thoughtfully at his feet. "You…said you heard Scott's death."

"Scott? Who - …Oh."

"Did…was it painful?"

Mike's face fell at the question, his gaze softening. Hank suddenly looked so melancholy; Mike felt sympathy for him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own sadness over Phone Guy's death, it never occurred to him how other employees must've felt. He knew one of the kitchen workers had never liked the man and had joked about his 'disappearance'; the mistake being that he had done it in front of him (Mike still hadn't paid for that window). A few others shared their condolences over the whole thing, but that was about it. Hank, however, had known Phone Guy when he was alive and well and had done so since, probably, 1987. Hank had never mentioned the death before, so Mike had never thought about whether he'd been affected or not. But now he had and Mike suddenly understood everything. Mike looked down at his blanket, unable to look at the man's face, "…I dunno. I didn't hear that far. I…He was scared, but he didn't show it. He…tried to cheer me up, even though I knew what was happening. He didn't want me to be scared or panic. I admit, though…I cried. Hard."

Hank nodded slowly, "…Sounds like Cawthon. Laughing everything off, even at the end. He was always like that. Always had a smile on his face."

Mike lifted his gaze to Hank. He'd never sympathised with the man before, mainly because he'd barely ever spoken to him, but now he felt like he had something in common with him. "…Hey, Hank? Mind doing me a favour?"

"Yeah?"

"…Tell me about Phone Guy. Just…y'know. Things."

Hank faltered, then blew out some air as he pondered. "…His real name was Scott Cawthon. He worked for Freddy's for a long time, even longer than me, so I can't tell you much about when he first arrived. But he was so enthusiastic and smiley. He liked machines and he said that was the whole reason he wanted to work at Freddy's. Just that he liked machines. Back at the old location in '87, he didn't have a specific job. Just did little things. He trained the new guys, sometimes worked as a waiter if we were short on staff. The one job he actually had, though, was that he had to clean the animatronics. God…he loved that job. Scott treated those things more like people than he ever did machines. They weren't just robots that he had to keep an eye on. They were _real_ , Mike. He treated them like they were his friends. Even visited the old ones in the Parts and Services room.

"When the new place opened, Scott wanted to take the nightshift, but Charlie said no. He said he wanted Scott close by because the animatronics were behaving differently than they did before, so Scott was put on dayshift instead. He worked that job for quite a while until it came to a point where Charlie was struggling to recruit a new night guard. Cawthon said he'd do it; jumped at the chance. Charlie shrugged it off. You know how long Scott spent in that office before you?" Mike shook his head. "A whole two years."

"You're fucking kidding me…" Mike muttered. He had assumed Phone Guy was good at his job, but…wow.

"Nope. I dunno how he did it, but he spent two years in there. Sure, he was scared and he wet himself just like you did, but he survived for that long. I…guess the animatronics recognised him and went easy on him." His tone changed, "But then, one morning, me and Charlie went in and we found him slumped in his chair. He was unconscious and we thought he was dead. We called an ambulance and they took him away. Turns out he had a heart attack. Said, uh, _Bonnie_ had 'got him good' that night and scared him half to death. He joked about it and assured us his 'ticker was as good as ever'. Charlie didn't believe it. He tried to tell Scott that he was fired and that he didn't want him to work the night shift anymore because it wasn't good for him, but Cawthon insisted. He begged and pleaded for one more week - just _one._ And…I guess you know what happened next."

Mike had laid down on his bed at this point. Tears were pooling in his eyes. He considered himself ridiculous; here Hank was, completely dry-eyed and here he was, starting to blubber like a baby. Pathetic. He hadn't even known him. "Oh, God…he asked for one more week…he asked for one more week so that he could record the phone calls, and then… _oh, no…_ " He covered his eyes with his stump and cried softly into his bandages, gritting his teeth in deep emotional pain. Phone Guy really had sacrificed everything for him - for a stranger. They hadn't even known each other; never even saw a picture or heard a name. It hadn't mattered to him; he had wanted Mike to live.

Hank watched Mike for a few moments, "He…was the nicest guy you could ever meet. Trust me on that." Mike didn't respond, so Hank sighed and awkwardly walked to the door. "Just…get some rest, okay? I…I'll call your mom later, so -"

"Hank."

The janitor turned back to him, surprised that he had gotten such control so soon. "…Yeah?"

"Do me a favour."

"Yeah?"

"Keep the phone safe for me. Tell the new night guard, whoever they are, to listen to the phone calls. Tell 'em from me to _listen to them._ And…well…the place is gonna shut down soon, right?"

"After what happened to you, the higher-ups will be up to their necks in lawsuits. Freddy's will close before Christmas time, definitely."

"Then tell me when it does."

"How come?"

"There's something there I need to get."

Hank stared for a moment and considered asking Mike if he meant his own hand, then it clicked into place, "…The phone."

"…Yeah…" Fresh tears seeped out of Mike's eyes and he swiftly wiped them away as he sat up against his pillows.

Hank nodded, smiling softly, "Sure…I dunno what to say, Mike, except that I'm sorry for all of this. I…didn't want this."

"No one did. Not even Charlie. But it happened." Mike shrugged, "Guess I'm partly to blame, messing with them all like I did. Provoking them too. I was proud, but that's no excuse. I pissed 'em off. But don't expect me to apologize to them. They don't deserve it."

"Of course." Hank nodded and went to leave, then paused and looked back, "…I really am sorry for what happened to you, Mike…does it still hurt?"

"This pain means nothing," Mike said immediately, staring at the light above his head, "…compared to what _he_ had to sacrifice back there…"

Hank's mouth opened, then closed; his tongue a dry lump. With that, he left the patient on his own to ponder. Mike stared at the light above him. He'd always known Phone Guy was good at his job. He'd questioned his kindness and hospitality at first, but that had changed quickly. Phone Guy had just wanted to keep him alive and doing so caused his own death. A life for a life. Equivalent exchange. Mike had never hated his own beliefs as much as he did right now. Why had Phone Guy had to sacrifice so much when he had to sacrifice so little?

A life: Phone Guy.

A hand: Mike Schmidt.

Equivalent exchange suddenly just didn't make sense to him anymore.

Mike Schmidt stared at the light above him before a tear silently seeped out of his eye and slid down his cheek, "…Scott…"

…

 **Author's note:**

 **Happy first anniversary, Five Nights at Freddy's!**

 **A 'canon' moment for my version of Mike Schmidt. Figured it's about time I wrote it.**

 **Don't worry, he gets a prosthetic later.**


End file.
